


Our Own Girl Scout Troop

by romashka



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Backstory, Gen, Girl Scouts, Pyromania
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-08-30 08:52:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8526832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romashka/pseuds/romashka
Summary: Willow misses the Girl Scouts. Wendy and Abigail never got the chance to join, but even when one of you is dead and you're in the middle of a deserted wilderness it's better late than never, right?





	

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really know what to say about this, it's just an idea I had. I think Willow could be a good adoptive big sister to these girls!

It was more for convenience than anything that Willow and Wendy had begun to share a base. Willow had never had to take care of anything before, let alone a child, and it was hardly her strong point. But this was just as well, because Wendy was determined to reject any parental influence any of the other survivors might try to foist upon her. They got along well, as it turned out, not least because of their shared penchant for destruction. 

Willow was unnerved by Abigail, but while she was summoned the two sisters were as inseparable as they had been in life. Sometimes only Wendy saw her. Sometimes she existed only as a chilled breeze, making the air zing with an indescribable energy. Mostly she was very faint, a barely noticeable disturbance, but sometimes Willow could see her take shape, a little girl just like a transparent imprint of Wendy herself. “Always a delicate creature, whom a breath might have withered,” Willow once heard Wendy said to herself, or to Abigail, or to nobody in particular. If one looked at Abigail for too long she would melt into the trees. Though she was in fact a powerful spirit, she would never hurt Wendy or her friends, and so Willow came to accept her. There were much bigger things to worry about.

Occasionally Willow would mention the time she’d spent as a Girl Scout. It had given her a natural edge out here; she knew about trapping and making shelters and cooking over a campfire because she’d done it before. (Although needless to say, fire-related skills had always come naturally to her anyway.) Wendy saw a certain pride in Willow when she spoke of it. She could imagine that it was the only time when Willow had felt she was doing something useful, and that people actually wanted her around. “When you were in Girl Scouts,” she said, as they escaped the sun beneath the siesta lean-to that Willow had built, “why did they let you stay? You said that you set fires a lot when you weren’t supposed to. You said that when they taught you to make these, you burned them down.”

Willow laughed in a childish manner. “Yes! I did. And the tents sometimes. As long as there was nobody in them, of course. I actually really kind of want to burn this one, too.”

Wendy shifted nervously.

“But I won’t, because you don’t like the heat, and I can go find some trees to burn instead.”

Despite herself, Wendy smiled a little at Willow’s courtesy. “Thank you. But my question remains unanswered.” 

“Well, one time the girl scouts came to the orphanage to sell cookies, and the matron bought a few boxes and each of us got a cookie. Which was a really big deal for us, because we hardly ever had sugar. And –”

“My mother used to bring home candy for Abigail and me. I didn’t like it.”

“As I was saying, cookies. Big deal. I didn’t really know about girl scouts, but I liked the cookies, so I, uh. I snuck out and followed them.”

“Because you wanted some more.” Wendy was delighted that the literary conventions of orphanhood had proven so true.

“Damn right I did. So yeah, I caught up to the girls and they were about my age, and I started talking to them, and long story short I joined up. And then I had to go back to the orphanage and they were really pissed that I ran off, but someone decided it might be good for me to have an ‘outlet’ for my energy, so they just kinda…let me keep going. It was on Thursday nights. They just told the other girls that Willow was allowed to go to Girl Scouts because she was a special case, which meant I was a troublemaker, and they were a little scared I was gonna torch the place. And the Girl Scout leaders found out about my habit before long, of course, and they tried to confiscate my lighter but I just did big sad orphan eyes at them and told them it was my foundling token, cause it is, and they let me keep it with me cause they decided it was their duty as respectable citizens to help me. And sometimes they brought stuff to the meetings that it was okay for me to burn, and in return I’d try to keep the flames off things that were important, even if sometimes I couldn’t help it. And they’d get mad, but they gave me way more chances than they had to. And it was good, and I made friends, and I felt proud being part of something. I felt like maybe I really was special. Whew. Sorry, that must sound really dopey.”

“A little,” said Wendy, “but it’s kind of what I thought.” A long moment hung in the air before she spoke again. “Abigail wanted to be a Girl Scout. I remember it. I didn’t care for such things, but I would have done it too if it would please her.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Our mother had very particular ideas about the way a young lady should act, and it didn’t include outdoor pursuits.”

“Well,” said Willow, unsure how what she was about to say would be received, “you could be one now. For Abigail, if you wanted to.”

“But there’s no-one else here.”

Willow smiled. “That just means there’s no-one to tell either of us what we can’t do.”

A lightning bolt struck the ground five feet in front of them, scorching the grass with a letter M.

“Fine,” Willow said, “no-one who can be bothered to take a physical form to tell either of us what we can’t do.”

“I suppose when you put it like that…yes, I would like that, I think.”

This was the most enthusiastic Willow had seen Wendy about anything. When dusk fell, she headed out to the nearest spider nest.

“Are you going to kill yourself?” Wendy called after her.

“No, Wendy, I’m not.”

“Because if you were, I’d come along.”

“Um…thanks. But I don’t think either of us should be dying yet.”

“That’s alright. I’ll make some food for when you get back.”

Willow thanked her and disappeared into the forest. 

She returned breathless just before the darkness set in. There were scratches on her face and arms and what looked like a nasty bite. She pulled a wad of silk from her backpack. “Look. I got us all this. For our sashes. I’m going to try to make a dye too, so they’ll be green.”

“This seems very frivolous,” said Wendy, looking up as she retrieved pierogi from the crock pot, “but I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, maybe you’ll even have fun.”

Willow stayed awake that night while Wendy slept. The summer nights were short, even more so in this place than back home. By the time dawn broke, Willow was soaking the sashes in the experimental dye she’d made from yellow and blue petals. 

When Wendy stirred, the sashes were hanging on the drying rack, for lack of anywhere else to put them. They didn’t really look anything like actual Girl Scout sashes. The weaving was crude and the colour was splotchy and uneven and dripped off them onto the ground. Wendy wordlessly put one on. She picked up the other two and held one out to Willow and the other away from her. It took on the subtle shine they’d both come to recognise as Abigail’s power, was whipped out of Wendy’s hand and floated around them, finding rest on top of the sign that designated their camp.

“She knows that one’s hers now,” said Wendy. “She can’t hold it all the time, but I think she’s really happy that you made it for her.” She glanced awkwardly at Willow, and then stepped forward and hugged her. They were both tense, uncomfortable with physical contact, but both understood the significance of this gesture, and this moment. 

Willow stepped away. “Would you like to make some pumpkin cookies, and go sell them in the pig village?”

“I don’t think they’d pay,” said Wendy. But there it was, the ghost of a smile.


End file.
